He would always save her x
by CaptainRaydorxxx
Summary: Set during and after New Caprica ... Things went differently in my head ... Roslin is arrested again and Adama rescues her from the clutches of the evil Cylon's ... Lame summary but story is better.


The walls.

All she had seen for weeks now were these blasted walls.

Scratch marks and burn marks.

The grey burning her eyes.

That was when they weren't having their fun with her.

At first they had just taunted her.

Pictures of her friends with black crosses scrawled across their faces.

Leaving the lights on for days and then leaving them off for days.

Then her food, if you could call it food, had stopped for days.

They only started to feed her again when they found her collapsed on the cell floor.

After a while they grew bored off messing with her mind.

It would start with slaps and punches, just enough to hurt but not enough to mark her permanently.

But then that hadn't been enough.

She had been tied to a chair.

Her arms tied behind her back, her shoulders straining.

Her ankles had been tied to the legs of the chair.

Before they had started the first time a millions thoughts had started to run through her head.

She had been arrested once already.

But they had only taken her glasses and shoes then.

She had no clue as to why they were doing this to her.

All those thoughts vanished when he had walked in.

She had remembered him from her dreams.

Leoben Conoy.

He had haunted her dreams for weeks.

And now he was here.

He seemed to enjoy the power he had over her.

Her glasses had not only been taken from her this time but crushed.

Her clothes had been ripped until they hung in tatters on her thin frame.

Her hair hung around her face un brushed and unwashed.

She had never felt so small.

They wanted names.

The insurgents who had been behind the most recent bombings.

She refused to sell out her fellow citizens.

And for that they punished her.

Conoy had found it funny to mark her in places only those allowed beneath her clothes would see.

It was the same knife every time.

He never cleaned it off so that every time he went to make another cut the blood would just add another level of red.

Then it had moved on.

He would crack a finger or two.

Then he would crack them back into place.

Then he would break them again.

Tears rolled down her cheeks but she refused to make a noise.

Then he had moved onto her face.

He had sat on her lap.

She turned her face so that she wouldn't have to look at him.

He had placed a hand under her chin and pulled her face round.

He had muttered cruel words.

No one is looking for you.

No one is going to save you.

You are worth nothing.

They don't want you anymore.

The words at first had just floated over her head but as they kept coming, day after day after day, she had begun to believe them.

He had taken her hair in one hand and pulled her head back so that she had no choice but to look at him.

The knife that had already left so many marks on her skin, had then marked her face.

It would always be with her.

Running down the side of her face. From just above her left eyebrow all the way down to the corner of her mouth.

That had drawn a scream from her.

He had laughed then.

It had been days after that before she was visited again.

She hadn't been untied.

Her body hung limp in the chair as D'Anna walked into the room.

The first crack of her hand sent her head flying back.

Her vision had only gotten worse with the blood running down her face with the cut.

She had only come in to torment her some more.

Her comments were always barbed.

At first she had argued back but each word had only added to the number of slaps bestowed upon her.

It went on for hours.

With each time she refused to give up the names they got a little more angry and a little more desperate.

Laura had stopped listening at that point.

D'Anna had left and Conoy had come back.

He dragged his hand through her hair pulling her head back.

He had whispered that there wasn't much left for them to do to her.

He had seen the tiny spark of hope that had flared in her eyes.

And he had loved crushing it.

He had untied her from the chair and dragged her onto the floor.

The door had slammed shut leaving them alone in the cold grey room.

She knew what was coming the minute she looked into his eyes.

She had done her best to scramble back from him but she could barely move her limbs.

He laughed at her attempts to get away and stalked closer to her.

He had taunted and teased her as he had moved closer until he could grab her legs.

He yanked her towards him and dropped to his knees.

Sensing an opportunity she had gritted her teeth and raised her knee straight into his groin.

He fell back momentarily gasping in pain before the fire re-lit in his eyes.

Bitch he had called her.

He had climbed back over her until his face was level with her face.

He had taken her had in his hands and lifted in slightly.

He called he bitch again and slammed her head into the floor.

When she woke up, it was to a grunting.

It took her a while to realise where she was.

The cold floor under her head.

The grey ceiling straight above her.

The pain radiating across the whole of her body slowly to started to get worse.

The grunting stopped and she realised that Conoy was still on top of her.

She started to move, desperately wanting to get him off her.

He looked down at her as soon as he had realised she was awake.

He stood up, re-adjusting his clothing as he went.

She had done her best to curl over onto her side but she could barely move.

He had started to kick her.

Random spots across the back of her body.

The blows carried on going until all she could see was black.

She felt him crush her right hand under his boot.

After that he walked away.

She had no idea how long she had been left there before she passed out.

When the door finally opened she made no noise or movement.

The marines rushed in checking the corners as they went.

One knelt next to her and gently lifted the brown curls that fallen over her face.

It's her he called out.

Suddenly there was movement outside the door.

Admiral Adama rushed into the room not caring what the marines thought.

He knelt next to the unconscious woman and brushed away the rest of her hair from her face.

He made a noise in his throat before her stood.

He made his way back out into the hall way where Leoben was kneeling on the floor two marines pointing rifles at his head.

He had chuckled at the expression on the Admirals face as he walked out of the room.

Adama hadn't even given him the chance to say anything before he had him pinned against the wall.

He said not a single word, just stared into the Cylon's eyes.

Leoben stopped smiling when he realised what was going to happen.

Adama stepped back and nodded at the two marines who raised their rifles again.

He turned and walked back into the small cell as two shots rang out.

He had the marine who was kneeling next to Laura help him pick her limp body up.

Her head rolled against his shoulder as he made his way out of the compound.

There were gasps and whispers as he headed towards the raptor that would take them back to the Galactica.

It's Roslin.

They had Roslin all this time.

I can't believe she is still alive.

He ignored them, not wanting to know how long she had been in that cell.

Eventually they had made it back to the ship.

He had not let go of her body once, not wanting to let anyone else take her.

He had carried her to Cottle.

If the elderly doctor had been at all shocked by the state of the former president he hid it well.

He gestured towards the nearest bed and rolled his sleeves back.

Once she had been placed on the bed a nurse had pulled curtains shut around them.

She was put on a gas mask.

She had IV's put in.

The remains of her clothes were put in a bag and she was covered in a gown.

Adama sat next to her, cutting the cable tie that held her wrists together.

Cottle assessed her injuries and called for X-rays.

It was hours before they knew anything permanent.

All the bones in her right hand were broken.

She had three broken ribs.

There was severe muscle damage in her back and legs.

The wound on her face was still open and bleeding.

The cuts all over her body were bleeding.

The gown that she had been dressed in was covered in red line from the cuts, some in places that none of them wanted to think about.

Cottle stitched her face and as many of the other wounds that needed stitching.

He fixed her hand and plastered it.

Her ribs were bound.

She was given morpha and sedatives through the many drips to keep her asleep and control the pain.

Then they waited.

It was three days before she woke by herself.

She woke in dark room.

Panic instantly filled her head.

She tried to sit up but fell back onto the pillows as her ribs and back protested.

Suddenly something clicked.

Pillows.

She did her best to try and see her surroundings but she could only make out the outlines of a few objects.

She ran her left hand over the wall next to her hoping to find a switch.

Light flooded the room as her fingers brushed over the switch to the lamp next to her.

She looked around, wanting to know why she was in Adama's room.

Suddenly she jumped when a snore from across the room startled her.

He was asleep on the sofa.

All thoughts of the previous weeks left her mind as she watched him sleep.

She had never seen him look so peaceful.

She knew deep down that she should be more worried about how she had got here and what was causing her so much pain but he was all she could think about.

She lay there for a while before the pain finally resurfaced.

She used her one good hand to push down the blankets that had been pulled over her.

She looked down her body, shocked at what was there.

Her legs where a mass of black and blue as was her stomach.

But what scared her more were the hand shaped bruises on her thighs and hips.

She couldn't look anymore.

She swung her legs off the rack, doing her best not to crumple in pain.

She lifted herself slowly off the bed and limped over to the bathroom.

As soon as she was in she dropped to the floor, ignoring the pain from her ribs and heaved everything from her stomach into the toilet bowl.

Bill was woken by the sound of throwing up.

He looked over to the bed and realised that she was up.

He made his way over to the bathroom slowly, not wanting to startle her.

He watched her silently.

She was in clean clothes now.

A pair of his shorts and one of his vests.

Once she had been stabilized and treated, he had moved her to his quarters knowing she wouldn't want to wake up on a gurney.

He had washed her up as good as he could but he was still troubled by what he saw.

He could see the bruises on her legs and arms, the rest hidden by clothing.

Her hair was tied in a rough ponytail, not that she seemed to have noticed.

When she finally stopped throwing up, she lean't away from the toilet and ran a hand over her eyes.

She looked up at the mirror and jumped when she saw his reflection.

Tears came to her eyes as she looked at his face.

She could see the worry.

The pain.

She went to stand but her legs wouldn't hold her.

As she sank to the floor, Bill scooped her up and carried her back to the rack.

She rested her head on his shoulder absorbing the warmth he gave off.

When he went to set her down she clung to him.

He sat down and held her against him.

She cried.

Everything that had happened suddenly came rushing through her head.

Pictures of Conoy and D'Anna taunting and hurting her flashed through her head.

The chair with bits of material hanging off it.

The cold grey walls.

The knife that was the cause of most of her pain.

Her hand flew to her face.

She could feel the wrappings and bandages.

She could also feel the stitches underneath.

He pushed her hand down and pulled her closer to him.

She relaxed as much as her body would allow her to, wanting to forget everything that had happened.

He could only imagine at what was going on in her head.

They had done their best to fix all the injuries on the outside of her body but when they had found the bruise on her thighs they had all known that it was going to take more than painkillers and stitches to fix her.

It was days before she felt even vaguely human again.

She could finally look in a mirror with out bursting into tears.

She could walk unaided.

Her bruises were slowly healing.

She just couldn't stand to have anyone other than Bill to touch her.

Cottle couldn't get close to her unless she was being held by the always stoic admiral.

The wounds healed.

She was left with horrendous scars and bruises but she was healing.

But she still felt damaged on the inside.

She had figured out what had happened to her when she had been held in that cell.

She had been told every last detail.

When she walked the corridors between Adama's quarters and the medical bay she could hear the whispers.

She saw the looks they gave her.

Pity.

Sadness.

Horror.

Anger.

Bill was the only one who acted normal.

He wouldn't let her lay around.

He made her get up and work.

She was grateful for the distraction.

Eventually the scars and the bruises faded leaving just the one on her face.

She continued to stay in Adama's room not feeling safe anywhere else.

She knew that she would have to leave eventually but for know she knew that she wasn't going anywhere.

It was safe here.

She was safe.


End file.
